


Galliard

by TheWillowTree



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: 12th Century, F/F, Fluff, Irish Dance fic, They dance in a tavern :), set in ireland
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 17:43:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12636000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWillowTree/pseuds/TheWillowTree
Summary: Asami walks into the tavern, and closes the door. It’s...not a good night so far.-Written with Ed Sheeran'sGalway Girlas inspiration





	Galliard

**Author's Note:**

> One of my proudest works ever, and my first one to stand alone (not part of Korrasami Week or month.) Very, very excited to share this with you all :)

Asami walks into the tavern, and closes the door. It’s...not a good night so far.

She ignores the looks of the taverngoers as she makes her way in, keeps her face passive. Women usually didn’t step foot into a tavern alone. Asami isn’t the type of girl who does usual things.

She sits down at the bar, signals the bartender Bjorn, a longtime friend of her father’s. More a mutual friend, to Asami.  

He smiles politely as he walks over. “What can I get for you, lass?”

Asami answers, “Guinness, please.”

He nods, and busies himself to get her drink. The last time someone had questioned if Asami could hold her drink, they’d left the tavern. In regret. And maybe more than a few broken fingers.

Asami takes this moment to look around. There aren’t many in Dilliesbrooks, but this is the one she frequents most. It’s on the quieter side of town- not too rowdy, but not too tranquil either. Enough for stimulated contemplation, but not enough to get a week’s worth of distractions in one night.

She sighs. She gets a lot of distraction, here.

Mostly because of her father. Her father... she grimaces. Her and her father want different things for her. She disagreed with them. It didn’t end well.

She escaped to the tavern most nights it didn’t end well.

Asami snaps out of her reverie, as a voice next to her calls out, “Bartender!’

Asami swivels back, and gapes.

There’s another girl. A _girl._ Okay, honestly, women do show up often in taverns, but not alone, not unaccompanied by a male _._ It was why Asami received so many looks often.

The girl is brown-skinned, blue (gray?) eyes, and short brown hair. Asami probably looks like an idiot now with how wide her eyes are.

She swallows thickly, and turns to her drink, which has magically appeared. “What can I get for you, lass?” Bjorn is asking, as Asami bores ten-foot holes into her Guinness.

“Bulmers Cider. On the rocks.”

What person gets Bulmers on the rocks, it’s fucking freezing outside-

“Wow. You have _really_ green eyes.”

Fuck.

Asami’s blushing immediately.

“Sorry,” the woman says, and out of Asami’s periphery vision, she’s looking down too. “That was just weird. And uncalled for. And just generally...yeah.”

Asami turns her head, and immediately thanks herself for it. This woman is _beautiful._

It’s probably the drink in her, but she sticks out her hand. “I’m Asami,” she says, and it’s a wonder her voice isn't shaking.

The other woman smiles, and Asami’s sure she’s just melted. “Korra.” She shakes her hand, and Asami feels fifty times warmer.

“What brings you here?” Asami asks, and bashes herself in the head for it. Stupid. Stupid, Asami. She’s at a bar. She’s here to knit sweaters and raise sheep, _not_ obviously drink Bailey’s and Lager, of _course._

Korra laughs, though, and it's the best thing Asami's ever heard. “Just need a night out. Nothing wrong with that. Need a rest day, every so often. Or, once every week.” She grins, and Asami is sure the gods have bestowed all their power unto her, because how is she _not fainting_.

“I come here often. Don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.”

“Ah,” Korra says, and it sounds guilty. “I...used to go to Chapper’s, but it got old real quick.”

And by old, she meant…

“I got into a couple barfights,” she trails, reading Asami’s mind. A grin flashes. “No big, though.”

Asami can accept that, because of the way her arm muscles _flex_ by _resting_ on the bar. She can tell that Korra could fight. And that. That was very dangerous.

“Aaaand, I’ve probably scared you away.”

“What? No.” Asami shakes her head. “I love a good woman who can handle her own against men.”

She’s only just realizing how stupid this sounds until Korra laughs, a sound that fills the entire tavern. Her mouth is curved in a grin, and it's reaching her eyes, and Asami doesn’t know whether or not she should feel like an idiot.

“Oh my _god_ , you are funny.” Korra ends her chortling with a snort, and soon, Asami’s laughing too.

* * *

 

She spends the next hour or so like that. Laughing. And laughing _hard._

Korra is midway into her next story when Asami has to physically pound the bar with her fist, upsetting the glasses of liquor, because she can not _stand_ it. She’s tried that too, and immediately had to sit down.

“And so,” Korra’s saying, as Asami is amidst her fiftieth set of snorts, “Tenzin’s like- ' _Oh no Korra! You can’t do that here!_  'And I’m just like-” she puts on a face, and it’s a _ridiculous_ face- “I’m not listening to you, and you gotta deal with it!”

That’s it. Asami’s going to die. She’s going to hurl her Guinness at the opposite wall and die of laughter because Korra is the _funniest perso n she’s ever met._

It’s a while before she comes up for air, and her sleeve is imprinted with the mess of her sunken head, and it’s starting to feel a little numb, because Spirits knows how long she’s been laughing for.

“Oh,” she wipes a tear (an actual _tear_ ) from her eye, uttering one, last cry, and tries not to look up at the woman who’s done this to her. “Spirits, Korra, you are the funniest person I have ever met. Where have you been?”

And she freezes at that thought, but Korra just smiles easily and shrugs. “Probably on the other side of the village. Dilliesbrooks is pretty big, after all.”

Asami nods, still trying to contain herself.

“Anyways,” Korra continues, downing the last of her cider (it’s her second one, and Asami hasn’t seen her faltering yet), “where do you come from?”

“Delby River. My dad owns a farm.”

“Ah.”

“Ah,” Asami echoes, and Korra raises her eyebrow. It's asking a question. Asami frowns at her. “He...wants me to continue the family business.”

“Ah,” Korra says again. “And what do you want to do?”

Asami hesitates, but says, “Blacksmith. I want to become a blacksmith.”

Korra drops her jaw like someone’s knocked it out of her. “No way!”

Asami’s never had this kind of reaction before, so she chuckles. “Yes way.”

“That is the coolest thing I’ve ever heard!”

“Really?” Asami looks away. “My father tells me I’m silly. That a girl can’t make tools, or forge steel. That it’s...just a useless pasttime of mine.”

“That’s nonsense! Asami, that is _awesome_! Hey.” She moves her head so she’s in Asami’s line of sight. “I’ve always thought blacksmithing is really cool.” Her smile softens. “What kind of things do you blacksmith?”

Asami finds herself smiling too, because this is the first time someone’s ever been happy to hear that she does blacksmithing. “Horseshoes, tacks. Keys. The normal. Varrick’s letting me work on a new design though- says farmers are looking for a way to plow their fields faster.”

Korra grins, and it’s the best thing Asami has ever seen. “That- is _so_ cool. I’ve always wanted to build stuff, but I think fighting’s more my style.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Asami chuckles, glancing at Korra’s arms.

She looks down at them. “What, these things?” She flexes, and Asami dies. “Dad’s been training me for ages.”

Asami’s eyes bulge, after her heart's restarted. “What?”

“Yeah. He used to fight in the wars. Says settling down now is the best thing that’s ever happened. That, and me, of course.” She grins like an imp, but Asami’s still stuck on the first part.

“Do you...do you know how to fight?”

“With a sword? Yeah. Dad was the best in his army. Taught me how to use a mace and a shield too.”

Now it was Asami’s turn for her jaw to drop.

“Do you...do you think you can-”

“Train you? Heck yeah! That’d be awesome! I’ve been looking for a training buddy for ages, but none of the other boys want to fight with me!”

Asami blows out a laugh, and settles back in her seat. Where has this girl been her entire life?

“Know where Groughby is? Down by the meadow?”

Asami nods.

“Yep. It’s right there. Come over any time.”

Asami blinks. “Just like that?”

Korra nods. “Just like that! I mean, it’s not like I have anything else to do, except tend fields, and that gets pretty boring. Besides, I’d love to have a girl friend!”

Asami’s heart falls to the ground so hard she swears everyone in the inn can hear. She’s glad, then, that the band in the back starts to play.

The fiddler announces: “Good evenin’ to all! How are yeh doin’?”

The crowd roars its answer. Asami grins. Irish people are the best at being rowdy.

“Aye, that’s what I like to hear!” He smiles toothily, looks around the room. “Well, tonight’s a special night. Me an’ my fellows here are going to play a jig for all of you. It’s a very special one- it’s a partner dance!”

Asami’s instantly blushing. She avoids glancing at Korra, but she can see Korra shift.

“So, grab a partner, come on up here, and jig it out with us!” The crowd claps their approval, raising their mugs. The fiddler looks to the bagpipe, bodhran, and pipe player. “Ready, lads?” They all nod enthusiastically. He grins, and they start.

Asami’s immediately smiling; it’s one of her favorite songs. It’s jumpy, and upbeat, and she feels like tap dancing every time she hears it. The fiddle makes her feel like she’s on an adventure; the bodhran beats within her bones; the bagpipe transports her out of this world- Irish music is just so _rhythmic_. And while she doesn’t dance, or sing, or do anything remotely musical, she loves this stuff.

She’s tapping her foot, and clapping the beat, when Korra stands up. And her hand is out.

Asami is mortified.

She's shaking her head. “I don’t dance.”

Korra laughs “I see your feet.”

Asami hides her feet.

“Come ooooon,” Korra beckons, grabbing her hand and gently tugging, and Asami is led (probably by a bad decision) into the middle of the tavern. It’s an open space, and _everyone_ can see them.

“Korra, I really don’t-”

But the music continues. The jumping tempo of ‘My Dublin Lass’ rings all throughout the tavern, beats into Asami’s head, and she’s watching Korra as she’s dancing. The woman is curving, and spinning, and tapping her feet onto the floor like lightning, and Asami has no choice but to follow. With a beat of the bodhran and lick of the fiddle, she’s whirling through the tavern with a blue-eyed woman by her side. It’s thrilling, and exhilarating, and Asami’s breath is whipping through the air in laughter, and Korra’s just there holding her hand through it all.

Asami hasn’t danced like this in- in forever, and she’s swept up in the arms of a woman she’s just met mere hours ago-

She’s suddenly face-to-face with her, and they’re breathing heavily, breathing into each other.

The world pauses.

-

Then the din comes crashing back in, and they’re bombarded by patrons clambering onto the floor. Korra yanks them away before they can get stampeded, and they, more or less, collapse back into their seats.

Asami’s breaking into laughter before she knows it. Korra’s laughing too, and really, Asami needs a counter for the amount of times her breath has been swept away today.

She holds her stomach, huffing out little, breathy laughs. “My, Korra.” She raises a hand to her chest. “You sure know how to dance.”

“Yeah,” Korra says, the laughs not easily subsiding. God, she’s so much fun. “Give me...give me a second.” It takes a couple of minutes, and Asami has to bite her lip not to laugh, but finally, _finally_ , Korra’s composed enough to be a human being again. She sighs, wiping her eye. “I’m natural-born," she says. "My dad jigs every Saturday and Sunday, and I’m forced to join in.” She deadpans at Asami’s face. “It’s not as fun as it sounds.”

Asami’s snickering.

“He gets dead drunk, Asami.”

Asami is holding her stomach.

“Do you want to know what a fifty year old man sounds like when he’s drunk _and_ singing, because it’s not-”

Asami bursts.

* * *

 

The rest of the night goes well after that. They play darts ( Asami _destroyed_ the other girl, much to her frustration), fidchell (a board game of moving pieces. Asami defeats Korra at this too, and by this time, she can tell the other girl is fuming), and lastly, camman- one of Asami’s favorites.

She’s eyeing Korra as the woman stoops down against the wooden table. She’s calculating the ball, right into its hole. Korra shifts the cue in her hand, positions her eyes on the ball, shoots-

And scores.

Asami’s astounded, and Korra pumps her hand into the air. “Yes! Three to two! You’re slacking, Sato,” she grins.

Asami grimaces. She doesn’t think so. She’s killer at this. Precision and accuracy is her thing; blacksmithing requires both. She lowers herself down to the green ball, as Korra’s taking a sip of her Bailey’s (“coffee cream!” she’s said), sights the hole, and scores- easily.

Korra whistles, placing her Bailey's down. “You are a masterpiece.”

Asami reddens. “I have to focus where I’m looking when I’m blacksmithing. One wrong move, and the entire piece is ruined.”

Korra smiles, nodding. “Smart.” She hops off the table from where she's sitting, and points her cue at the black ball.

Asami narrows her eyes. It’s one of only two left, and Korra has a good angle at it. If she misses-

She doesn’t, and Asami curses. If she doesn’t make this next one, she loses. Which is her first loss of the night, and one more than she wants to have.

Korra smirks at her as she rounds the table, which, unfortunately, destabilizes Asami’s focus. Her chest tightens with that buzzing feeling again, and she shakes it off to the Bailey’s sugar.

She hunkers down, places her fingers on the camman cue, swivels it to the blue ball. And in her periphery is Korra, who’s just quietly sipping her drink, and she smiles when she meets Asami’s eye. Asami’s hand slips-

The ball rolls away. Away from the hole.

Asami curses.

Korra’s grinning and dashing over to her side of the table, and she hits the ball with the cue, and wins the game. She’s all but effusing victory and raising her Bailey’s, yelling loudly, to Asami, who’s just standing there, admiring her whilst she’s flush with coffee and warmth.

She thinks.

Defeat isn’t so bad, after all.

* * *

 

They go beyond the tavern games, and play a few ones of their own. By ‘their own’, they mean arm wrestling. And by ‘arm wrestling’, they mean _arm wrestling_.

Asami tries her hand at it (literally), and fails, but she’s _amazed_ at the other woman’s strength. Her bicep, exposed by her rolled-back sleeve, is strewn with veins, and Asami swears there’s miles of muscles underneath there.

They attract quite a crowd, and it’s after three matches, when Asami’s arms are dead and useless, that a male steps up to their table:

“Aye, lass! Seems like yeh’re strong! How ‘bout yeh take ol’ Oisin for a turn?”

Korra looks at Asami, who shrugs, then nods at the man. “Sure.”

Oisin sits down at the table, thrusts his arm up, clasps Korra’s hand-

And loses, in less than two seconds.

He yowls, clutching his hand as Korra shakes hers off.

“You darn near broke my hand!”

Korra shrugs. “You challenged me.”

A few more competitors come on after that. An older male, Yewin, tries- rubs the red mark on his hand where it hit the table; Neall, a slimmer male, is knocked off his chair, clean onto his butt; and finally, Ragnar, a man twice Korra’s size with biceps three times as big, sits down.

Korra cracks her knuckles. The man cracks his neck. He’s grinning broken teeth.

Asami squeezes Korra’s shoulder, lending her support. If she wins this, the whole tavern will blow up.

Korra draws her arm onto the table, rests it in its nook; the other man does the same.

They stare eyes, clasp hands, and-

“Go!” The tavern erupts in an uproar, and Asami’s yelling like a boar and certainly _not_ like a 21 year-old woman should. Korra strains, her hand cowing against the might of the other man. Her face is red, and she’s breathing hard, and meanwhile, Ragnar’s not giving. He’s not even breaking a sweat. He's a fucking bear.

Korra’s losing way, and her fist is inches from the table-

Asami yells, in a voice that doesn’t seem like her own: “GO KORRA!”

Korra's face scrunches up in determination, and three seconds later, she slams the man’s hand onto his side of the table. She lets go, panting, clearly tired, but grins up at Asami, whilst the man stares, befuddled.

Asami only looks at Korra.

* * *

 

“Ahh, here it is!”

Asami pulls away from the shelf, and sets the board down.

Korra peers. “What is it?”

“It’s Pai Sho. Dad and I used to play all the time. Want me to teach?”

Korra raises her eyes. “Asami, you’ve destroyed me in everything today. Fidchell- _fi_ _fteen_ times. Who does that?” She slouches back in her seat. “Why would I want to lose again?”

“Oh, c’mon!” Asami waves away Korra’s refusal, and settles herself into her chair. “A couple matches won’t do you any harm.”

Korra hmm’s her mouth. She meets Asami’s eye, and grins, instantly. She nods. “Alright. What’s the harm in that?”

\---

Turns out, Korra’s not as bad as she herself thinks she'd be.

Of course, Asami still destroys her in the three games they play, but she’s put up more of a fight than the other opponents she’s faced, and that’s saying something. Her first time too- the girl’s a miracle!

Korra sits back in her chair, whistling. “That’s it. I’m done. My ego’s destroyed. I’m going to need you to refill it with warm coffee, specifically Bailey’s. Also, get me a dog. I’ve always wanted one.”

Asami grins, sweeping the pieces back into the box. “Come on. You were pretty good! It only took me five minutes to beat you.”

“As opposed to the regular one minute?”

Asami nods enthusiastically. Korra snorts.

“You’re a piece of work, Sato.” She shakes her head. “An amazing one at that.”

Asami blushes.

* * *

 

The rest of the night goes well after that.

Too well, in fact, Asami forgets what time it is, and it’s midnight before she’s noticed the sun’s set.

That had been...what? Five hours? Spent in a _tavern_?

In any other circumstance, Asami would be displeased with that, but she can’t complain about the company she’s spent the time with and the joyous mood she’s been in all night.

She does complain, though, that it’s time to go. Bjorn is closing down his tavern (much to the shouts of his patrons, who angrily wave their steins at him, but one glare shuts them down).

Korra takes her hand, much to Asami’s surprise, and drags her outside before the crowd can swallow them. Asami’s already drowning for a different reason.

The snow greets them, and Asami shivers. Korra, in response, sweeps her arm around. And Asami doesn’t know if Korra does this with every girl she meets, but she’s glad that she’s doing it to this one.

“You’re not cold?” Asami shudders under her sheepskin jacket.

“Haha, nope!” Korra smirks, probably thinking she looks cool. She does look cool. “I grew up in the mountains, remember? I have like, ten layers of ice-thick skin.” She pauses. “That sounds horrible.”

Asami laughs, and it blows white in the night air. “So, you’re like, some type of Irish ice monster?”

“Yup.” Korra narrows her eyes. “I can- _ice bend_.”

Asami guffaws, and Korra beams at her. “Where am I taking you?”

Asami nods in the direction of the river. “Derby, please. You know the way?”

“Please. The ice monster has hunted all parts of Dilliesbrooks. It knows everything.”

They walk on in warm silence, the cold snow swirling around them. Korra is honest, and straightforward, and she’s more open than anyone Asami has met before, but there’s still the slight hover of her arm over her shoulder. It says, ‘ _I don’t know how close you want to be, but this is enough to keep you warm.’_

Asami’s arm around her waist, then, says, ‘ _This isn’t close enough.’_

Korra responds warmly, and brings her closer.

They pass Derby river, gurgling like a babbling brook. If she listened hard enough, Asami could always hear it as she slept. It calmed her. It always did.

Time elopes in slow, steady gait, like two lovers passing through candlelight. Covers them, wraps them, protects them from the rest of the world. It’s their own thing, and Asami delights in the space of a few moments with Korra.

It takes forever, and it’s far too quick, but Asami’s standing before her house. She’s hesitating, rocking back on her feet.

“What’s wrong?” Korra asks.

Asami smiles. It’s not the happiest smile. “Nothing.”

Korra can probably feel the tension in her arms, because she squeezes them. “Hey. I’m all ears.”

Asami smiles again, and it’s a little happier. “I’ve...had a wonderful time, Korra. Truly.”

“Hey, me too!” she says easily, flashing back a grin.

But that wasn’t all. “It’s...I stepped into that tavern, wanting to forget. Now, I don’t want to anymore. I want to live. I want to do more.” Asami smiles up at her, and this time it’s real. “Thank you, for that. For showing me something else.”

Korra beams back. “Hey, no problem, Asami. I mean, I had a blast too, but I’m sure glad it made you happy! It...seemed like you needed it.”

There’s an awkward silence after that. Asami has nowhere to look but Korra’s face. Her eyes meet blue, and her lips part. Korra’s smiling back at her, and she looks so- so _wonderful_.

Just as Korra leans in- Asami looks away.

And there. Korra's sagged, only slightly, but Asami's noticed it. She’s fucked up, and she’s just broken a beautiful moment, and now, there’s probably nothing she can do except go home and wonder when next she’ll get to see Korra. Or if she ever gets to see her. 

“You...should probably get inside. You’ll freeze out here,” Korra’s saying, and Asami’s heart all but breaks when she hears the deflation in her voice.

Asami does want to go inside. She wants to run and shut the door and lock herself in forever, but a gut feeling inside her doesn’t want to do that. After a second, though, she has to relent, and steps away to the door.

Asami stops. Her hand presses against the wood.

She breathes.

Fuck.

Asami turns back, walks right up to Korra, and plants a kiss on her cheek.

“Thanks for everything,” she murmurs, and hurries back to her door like she’s escaping from a plague.

“Wait!” Korra grabs her arm. Asami turns, and she really, _really_ wants to kiss her again. Korra’s face is flush, and she’s blushing despite the cold. “Do you...do you want to come over and have dinner sometime?”

Asami’s surprised that the words, “Yes, I’d love to,” even make it out of her mouth, because her world has just crashed.

Korra grins delightfully again, and Asami feels bad she’s ever caused it to disappear. “Sweet! See you tomorrow!”

“Tomorrow?”

And if Asami thought blushing Korra couldn’t get cuter, she was wrong. Blushing Korra, with a hand behind her neck, is achingly adorable.“Oh, uhh...sorry, I should’ve asked.”

“No!” Asami hurries, flushing herself as if she’s just drank 6 mugs of Guinness. "Tomorrow is fine! Great, even! Yeah, I’m free tomorrow.” She has the smith with Varrick, but who gives a fuck.

Korra’s grin is really, really great. “Great! I’ll come around sundown. You are going to _love_ my parents.”

And, Asami does. She loves Korra’s parents so much, in fact, that she comes for dinner the day after that, and for every week after. She loves coming there so much, in fact, that she visits every single day.

Korra and her become a couple soon after that.

She doesn’t know how, or when, but she doesn’t question it, because Korra makes her so _happy_. And Asami’s coming over at sundown every day, and she’s kissing a woman who she’s fallen in love with at a tavern, and this woman’s fallen in love with her back, and really- Asami couldn’t be happier.

Really. She’s glad she stepped into that tavern. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have had all this.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'd love a comment, or a kudos anyday. Cheers! :)  
> My [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thewillowtree3): Give me a hello if you go on it! :)


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